


The Shadows We Know

by Nighthaunting



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Disassociative Indentities, Gen, Retirement AU, the Night Haunter Burns Konrad's bridges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nighthaunting/pseuds/Nighthaunting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Night Haunter comes to terms with his and Konrad's relocation. (Part 5 of the Retirement AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadows We Know

They had been several days in the warp away from Imperia when the Night Haunter first decided to test the boundaries of what he thought of as a particularly clever new form of imprisonment. He had told Konrad so, and while Konrad had been somewhat diverted by the offers of hospitality made to them the Night Haunter had been carefully observing.

The woman, Sigrun, was not a threat the Night Haunter thought. He was unsure what to make of her beyond that though; from what he had heard and seen the Wolf Queen dispensed justice, a different justice than the Night Haunter’s own, but justice none-the-less. Konrad was also unsure of her, but from the Night Haunter’s perception of Konrad’s thoughts his unsureness was pointless and derived mainly from inexperience in socializing. The Night Haunter counseled Konrad on this; although it would have been truer, perhaps, to say that he mocked Konrad for his disquietude.

Russ, however, was another story entirely. Konrad had let them grow weak on Imperia; pining away in the gloom of the house they’d been ‘given’—the first prison, the Night Haunter insisted to Konrad—for peace or sanity or an end to the visions or whatever it was that Konrad wanted that the Night Haunter knew would only weaken them further. While the Night Haunter was pleased to be gone from that planet—for all it represented to him was a prison from within which he could not bring justice to the deserving, or indeed, to hunt at all—being sent from there to this new prison was hardly an improvement. The Night Haunter knew that in their current state he couldn’t challenge the Wolf King openly, but that wasn’t to say he couldn’t subtly test his tolerance towards Konrad.

( _The nicest thing, the Night Haunter had found, about looking so very much like Konrad—although not the same, never the same—was that if he decided that it was an appropriate time to misbehave, the blame for said misbehavior always seemed to find itself being lain at Konrad’s door and not his. Beneficence on his part was never entirely removed from maliciousness, but Konrad was weak without his guidance, and the Night Haunter only sought to_ remind _him of the pointlessness of trying to find strength in others._ )

The opportunity presents itself as neatly as though Konrad had foreseen it, and perhaps he had, shaking out the last of a seizure in the room they’d been given when the Night Haunter nudges Konrad aside and opens his eyes to the dark. It is late; the Wolves are so at home on their ship that guard shifts seem laughably light, the Queen has already retired for the night, and Russ is sitting alone with his wolves by the great fire in the ‘hall’ that had been created by hollowing out one of the inner decks. The Night Haunter creeps as near as he can before Russ shifts and notices him, carefully noting how close he’d gotten.

Russ doesn’t say anything, but he beckons the Night Haunter over to the seat beside his. The Night Haunter takes it, and as he settles himself the way Konrad would have he notices Russ’ nostrils flare, briefly. He dismisses it. Russ is strange, even for a Primarch; what the Night Haunter cares about right now is that he thinks he is speaking to Konrad and not to him. He senses that he has more than the usual weight of Russ’ attention, and so he does what Konrad would do and inquires—somewhat sulkily, because Konrad has not found himself entirely pleased to be sailing for cold and distant Fenris either, and the Wolf King knows this—if something is the matter.

"There’s nothing the matter," Russ tells him placidly, ankle over knee, absently threading his fingers through the fur of one of the wolves ranged around his seat, "I thought perhaps you had something on your mind."

"Perhaps there is," the Night Haunter agreed, studying Russ, "I’m curious, do you enjoy your charge as Executioner?"

Something about Russ stills; not anything of his body, but something internal working upon the world around him, the passive influence of his mere presence quietly but suddenly being reined in. The wolves at Russ’ feet became more alert, with no prompting but the shift in the air. The Night Haunter noted again that it would be foolish to challenge the Wolf King in his own hall rather than, say, a dark alley he’d rigged with traps, but at the same time the idea of goading Russ and leaving Konrad to deal with the consequences was more amusing than he could resist.

"I mean no disrespect, of course," the Night Haunter said, barely swallowing his grin away from his teeth.

"Of course," Russ echoed, voice soft as the snow over fresh, thin ice.

They lapsed into silence for a time, and the Night Haunter could see that the Wolf King would just as well let the subject drop. He decided to press for more, though, and so after a few more minutes of quiet—studying the way Russ’ attendant wolves relaxed again when their lord did nothing—he spoke again.

"There must be a feeling of righteous satisfaction at least, though," he mused, loud enough for Russ to hear him, "…perhaps a bit more?" He looked at Russ appraisingly, "You’ve never exactly shied away from bloodshed, after all…"

"It is a duty and a burden I have _accepted_ as mine; one I was created to bear,” Russ said, cutting off the Night Haunter, “but not one from which I derive any joy.”

"Do you derive guilt from it then? Does the Wolf King feel shame?" the Night Haunter asked, too excited by the prospect of weaknesses to check is curiosity. "Perhaps the mantle of Executioner is heavier than you’d care to admit. That would certainly explain why you and your legion live and drink the way you do."

The Night Haunter paused for a moment, leering suddenly at Russ before he could be interrupted again.

"Who is the judge deciding where your axe will fall?" he purred, "Is it the blood on your hands that drives you, do you want to forget? How does your Queen feel when she finds you soothing your conscience in another’s bed? How can you think of accounting yourself nobly when you murder and rut your way across the galaxy like a beast—"

The noise that rises from Russ’ throat stops the Night Haunter’s words. It is a primal sound; a night sound, that humans had learned to fear early and then ascribed to each fresh terror they discovered. The Night Haunter feels the thrill of it and realizes he’s pushed too far. The Wolf King leans forward, slowly, until he is staring into the Night Haunter’s eyes.

"Beast I may be," he says lowly, and as the Night Haunter watches something in Russ’ face _shifts—_ not the firelight and shadows playing tricks, but in the bones and sinews—suddenly his naturally lupine features have stretched and cracked and become the maw of a great wolf. “But,  _I_ am not the only beast here,” the wolf says to him in Russ’ voice.

The Night Haunter does not breathe or blink; he is not the greater predator here. A long moment passes, and as suddenly as the change came it is gone again. “There is a great deal you do not know, and less, it seems, you understand,” Russ grins at him; grey wolf eyes and teeth too big for his mouth. Whatever ire the Night Haunter had thought he’d inspired is gone, or so skillfully hidden he can’t divine it in Russ’ countenance, “It is late now little Night Haunter, find your bed and sleep.”

He draws back, hissing, and the Wolf King’s laughter chases him from the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on several headcanons—namely, Russ being a shapeshifter, Russ having a sensitive enough nose to smell Konrad’s (and the Night Haunter’s by extension) brain chemistry shifting, and the Night Haunter deliberately burning Konrad’s bridges—and a talk with Kishiria about the Night Haunter’s initial take on Russ being something along the lines of “You are a bad person who does bad things. Like drink to forget and bang other people in front of your wife.”


End file.
